


Peter, Peter, Heat Dealer

by MissMoochy



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics)
Genre: Alpha Wade Wilson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, BAMF Peter Parker, Bottom Peter Parker/Top Wade Wilson, First Meetings, Insecure Wade Wilson, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Minor Original Character(s), Omega Peter Parker, POV Wade Wilson, Restraints, Sassy Peter Parker, Secret Identity, Sex Work, Sex Worker Peter Parker, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:21:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25051588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy
Summary: Wade sees an unfamiliar face at Sister Margaret's. Peter The Dealer, they call him. A bossy, rude omega who sells his heats to any alpha willing to follow his rules. Wade will do whatever it takes to get the beautiful omega to share his heat with him.
Relationships: Jack Hammer & Wade Wilson, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 50
Kudos: 388





	1. Chapter 1

The nice thing about Sister Margaret’s was that Wade never felt out of place. He was as much a staple of the bar as the taps, the blackboard, and Weasel himself. When Wade would walk in, people would greet him, making him feel like a character on _Cheers._ And he never felt too self-conscious about his scars because all the regulars had already seen him and some of them were even uglier than him. Many of the mercenaries in Weasel’s bar were heavily tattooed, and muscle-bound...and that was just the women. So when Wade sauntered in one night to see a new face in the crowd, he did a double-take.

“Who is _that?_ ”

The young man couldn’t have been older than his mid-twenties. He was standing alone, near the fire exit, casually sipping from a glass and staring down at his phone with the fixated stare of a millennial. His face was smooth, even and unmarked, and his hair was thick and wavy, gently falling in his eyes. He was wearing a thin, grey t-shirt, from what Wade could see. The weather was a bit cold for such a thin layer, but maybe the guy was a fellow Canuck. He looked too clean and neat to be here. He was the kind of guy to be pictured with a multi-ethnic group of friends on the glossy page of a college brochure. Certainly not the kinda dude to be drinking in a bar for thieves and killers. 

Weasel glanced up from his computer. “Oh, that’s just Peter The Dealer. He comes in now and then. He’s okay.”

Wade watched the young man swipe at his phone. “You’re telling me that twinkly ray of sunlight moves drugs?”

“Nah, he’s a Heat Dealer.”

“A _what?_ ”

“A Heat Dealer. Shit, man, where have you been?”

“Getting tortured by a shadowy human trafficking operation for two years. And before that, touring with the military. And before that, Canada.”

“Oh yeah, I forget. A heat dealer is an omega who sells their heats.”

He's an omega? He's a _sex worker?_

“Sells his heats? For what?”

“For...money?” Weasel said slowly. He’d worn that expression before, the ‘Did Ajax also remove your brain when he was pumping you full of chemicals?’ face.

“I’d already worked that out, thanks. Why does he sell his heats? Doesn’t he have an alpha?”

Weasel shrugged. “He’s unbonded.”

Weasel wasn’t prepared for Wade’s sudden rage, the merc, vaulting over the bar and grabbing him by the collar of his t-shirt. “You let a young, tiny, unbonded omega hang around your bar? He could get hurt, asshole. You, you need to get him out of here. And call the police, make them escort him home.”

Weasel calmly unhooked Wade’s fingers from his shirt. “Yeah, I’ll bring the cops to my bar of _illegal mercenaries._ Cool it, Wade. Peter can handle himself.”

“He’s gonna get passed around like a pack of cigarettes!”

“No, he’s fine, actually. Turn around, see for yourself.”

* * *

The bar had fallen silent, the way they did when two mercs were circling each other, trading insults. The calm before the fight. Oh shit, Gary was making his way to Peter. Wade had never liked Gary, finding him boorish even by a mercenary’s standard. And the way he spoke about omegas. And women. Or anybody else he considered inferior to himself. Wade had had to pop him in the jaw once before to stop him hassling a chick. And now he was approaching Peter.

Wade found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. Gary, a tall, strapping man in his late forties, with a weathered, leathery face and closely-cropped greying hair. Straightening his black leather jacket as if he even stood a chance with a beaut like Peter. And Peter, small, doe-eyed, slipping his phone in his jeans pocket, warily watching Gary advance.

“He won’t stand a chance... “ Wade whispered.

“Yeah, _he_ won’t.” Weasel cackled over a beer. Wade hadn’t even noticed him pour it. 

“You’re that omega that sells heats, right? When’s your next one?” Even Gary's _voice_ was ugly, Wade thought.

“Soon. Why?” Peter’s voice was soft but the bar was so silent, Wade could hear him as if he’d been speaking into a microphone. The boy was bold, Wade respected that. Gary didn’t, though, because he straightened up, looming over the omega.

“I want to buy.”

Peter looked him up and down and his lip curled. Whether in amusement or disgust, that was anybody’s guess. “Five hundred.”

“For a fuck? No way.”

“Aw, so sad, no heat for you then.”

“No, fuck you. I’m getting that heat, I don’t give a shit what you think your ass is worth. I’m not paying more than seventy.”

“Seventy bucks for a _heat?_ Okay, I don’t know what Weasel’s been putting in the drinks, but you must be high--”

“You fucking knot-thot, you think you're too good for me!” Gary said and lunged.

Wade jumped off his stool but Weasel grabbed his arm, holding him back. “Wait for it,” he murmured.

Gary was on Peter in a second, grabbing his arms, shaking the guy like a doll, but then, it was like Wade blinked and the image became inverted. Suddenly, Peter had the upper hand, pushing Gary against the same wall Peter had been leaning against mere minutes before.

Peter pushed and Wade could see Gary’s boots leave the floor. The boy was holding him up by the _neck._ Peter was having to stand on tiptoes just to do it, Gary was so much taller than him.

“Knot-thot. Never heard that one before,” Peter was saying, his voice eerily calm. He must have been exerting a tremendous amount of energy to keep Gary aloft, but his voice didn’t waver once. “Whore, cockslut. They’re more familiar. _Knot-thot._ I _like_ that. Is that term already entrenched in alpha vernacular or did you come up with that on your own?”

“Fucking omega, I’ll kill you--” Gary gasped.

Peter sighed. “I’m bored now. Bye.” and he grabbed Gary’s collar and _threw_ him. Gary sailed through the air like a paper plane and crashed into a wall, amidst cheers from the other mercenaries.

* * *

Wade allowed Weasel to guide him back to his stool. Weasel thrust a beer in his hand and he blindly accepted it, unable to look away from the omega. Peter had returned to his phone, and Gary hadn’t got up, but Wade could see that he was feebly trembling as a couple of the nicer mercenaries tried to get him in a sitting position on the floor.

He couldn’t believe it. He’d never seen an omega act that way. He was stunned and bizarrely, more aroused than he’d ever been.

“You think he’d let me buy?” Wade croaked, burying his face in his beer.

“You got cash?”

Wade thrust his hands in his pockets, making them jingle. His wallet was bulging with hundred dollar bills but the change in his pockets was more dramatic. “Making it rain, baby.”

Weasel nodded. “Yeah, you’ll be fine. I’ve seen him walk outta here with uglier dudes. Maybe wear a paper bag, though.”

“On my head?”

“On your dick.”

Wade was about to swagger off, omega-bound, but Weasel called him back.

“Apparently, he’s kind of a bastard. He has a bunch of rules you have to follow, he’s got a real rod up his ass about alphas obeying him.”

“The only thing going up his ass from now on is my knot,” Wade said firmly. “I’m gonna go ask him.”

Weasel fist-bumped him. “Rooting for you, buddy!” And then, under his breath: “He’s gonna wipe the floor with you.”

* * *

Wade sidled over, keeping an eye out for any alphas trying to horn in on the omega. Peter was attracting looks, but he didn’t seem too bothered by it, coolly drinking while checking his phone with his free hand. 

Wade discreetly scented the air, pulling in threads of _unbonded omega sweet omega young unbred omega._ Phew, that was powerful. The bar stunk so strongly of stale, spilt beer that Wade hadn’t been able to pick up on his scent. But now he was here, he was getting it in full-force, flooding his nose, filling his nostrils and throat with sweet, honeyed omega perfume.

The drink was dark brown, could have been coke, could have been alcoholic.

Wade drew nearer and stopped. He knew it was never a good idea to rapidly approach an omega, especially one as wiggy and super-humanly strong as this one.

“So, what’s your story?” Wade asked in what he hoped was a nonchalant way.

Peter looked up from his phone and eyed Wade with open boredom. “My story? You mean, my sign, right? That’s like, a really old pick-up line, isn’t it?”

It’s not that old. Wade used to ask people what their sign was. _Oh shit, I might be old._

“I didn’t say sign, _sugar,_ I said story,” Wade said. Peter’s pretty mouth thinned at the endearment but he hadn’t thrown his drink in Wade’s face, so things were going well, all considered. “I mean, your tragic backstory about how you got superpowers.”

Peter’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing into his curls and his nostrils flared. His face paled and Wade shifted his weight to the other foot, preparing himself to catch a fainting omega. But instead, Peter grabbed Wade’s wrist with a vice-like grip (his hand was soft but firm, like satin-covered steel) and plunked his glass down on the pool table. 

“You’re coming with me, _darling._ ” he snarled and yanked on Wade’s arm, steering him towards the exit.

As Wade was being pulled along, he glanced over to see Weasel giving him a thumbs up from across the room. Wade weakly returned it and allowed himself to be dragged out of the bar.

* * *

Peter led them to an alleyway a few doors down and resolutely strode straight into it without even a hint of hesitation. Omegas were normally very aware of danger, and would never enter a dark alley with an unfamiliar alpha. Wade had never seen one act this way before.

The alley was far away enough from the streetlamps that they were in near-darkness. Peter’s curls looked black in the gloom and his eyes, already dark, seemed to fill up his face.

“How did you know?”

“You threw that guy around like he was filled with feathers.”

“I work out.” Peter bit out, folding his arms.

Wade threw an appreciative look at Peter’s toned arms. Peter watched him cautiously. “Oh, I can _tell,_ you’re looking fine, but let’s be honest, dumbbells aren’t what gave you the strength to beat that guy up. Or any of the other alphas that make the mistake of underestimating you.”

Peter thawed a bit at the compliment. “Okay. Maybe I have an advantage over the average joe. But...do you have experience of dealing with people...like me?”

“Sweetheart, I _am_ a people like you.” Wade grabbed his own left hand with his right one and wrenched his middle finger backwards. The snap of the bone made Peter gasp. Immediately, the bone began to heal itself, as the omega watched in fascination.

“How did that happen? Were you born with it?”

Wade shook his head. “It’s a long story. R-rated. I’d rather tell you about it in a place less damp and rat-infested than here. How much would it take for you to share your heat with me?”

Peter’s lips twitched as if he was trying to repress a smile. “Okay, maybe this could work. But you would have to follow my rules.”

* * *

Peter had a lot of rules, as it turned out. He led Wade down a few blocks, and Peter’s omega scent scattered in the cool breeze, letting Wade feel a bit more clear-headed. Peter was fearless, barreling ahead in the dark, apparently ignorant or unbothered by the leers he was receiving from alphas passing by. Peter’s steps never faltered and he didn’t slow down for Wade to catch him. Damn this guy was fast. Wade hurried behind him, feeling like a dumb mutt lolloping after its master. Peter had insisted on taking the five hundred bucks upfront, which was fine with Wade.

They reached a grotty apartment block and Peter withdrew a key from his back pocket, that had a Captain America keychain dangling from it. Cap was good but Wade was always more of a Spider-Man aficionado. Spider-Man had spunk (not _that_ kind of spunk) and was morally-upstanding but less of a goody-goody than Steve Rogers. Wade had never met Spider-Man but he felt sure their paths would cross one day. It’s a small blue marble, after all.

Peter heaved open the outer door and bolted up the stairs, his trainers squeaking on the weird, rubbery floor. Wade followed, entranced by the sight of Peter’s ass jiggling up and down. It was firm and perky, with just enough of a bounce to keep your eyes on it. What was that thing they used to say about Marilyn Monroe? Like Jello on springs.

Wade was let into Peter’s apartment, and what a distressing place it was. It smelt thickly of omega, the scent pouring off the furnishings in waves. Wade almost expected that if he thumped the couch cushions, a cloud of omega essence would emerge from it, like moulted cat hair falling off a blanket.

It wasn’t so much the scent that bothered him, (it would have been weirder if the room didn’t smell like Peter) it was how sparse and threadbare the place was. Wade could feel springs digging into his ass just from _looking_ at the miserable couch, the walls were devoid of any artwork or even photographs, and there was a lonely microwave meal for one resting on the coffee table. It was half-eaten, some congealed macaroni cheese remaining.

Peter had disappeared into an adjoining room and Wade could hear him slamming drawers but couldn’t see him.

“Nice place you’ve got,” Wade called and heard a dry laugh in response.

“You’re paying me for sex, you don’t have to be polite. Just don’t punch me and we’ll be fine.”

“Has — has somebody tried to do that before?” Wade asked, trying desperately to keep his voice level. It was fruitless, he could feel the rage rising in him, bubbling like magma, threatening to erupt. Alphas were naturally aggressive, but Wade never found himself provoked by the usual things that stirred alphas up. But when he heard about an omega being disrespected or threatened by an alpha, he got a bit trigger happy.

Peter emerged from the room, poking his head around the door. “I’ve had alphas try to take the condom off during, I’ve had them try to force a bond bite, I think one tried to kill me before. He said he was reaching for his glasses but I’m sure I saw a knife in his bag,” he said and chuckled, shaking his head. “He was such a liar.”

“That’s...awful. Why do you... I mean. You could get hurt.”

“Oh, I suppose you’re going to convince me to give up the job? A same-sex _Pretty Woman?_ You wouldn’t be the first. Alphas love that, wagging their finger at me and telling me I’m _naive_ and _misguided._ You don’t get it. The job market is bad, it’s hard finding work as an omega anyway. Because of these stupid out-dated gender roles, I wouldn’t even get an interview for, I don’t know, a construction job or something. Which is moronic because you’ve seen how strong I am. And I have a...weird schedule, I’ve got this, um, passion project that takes up a lot of my time. So I need flexible work. Employers don’t like that.” He finished in a rush, panting slightly. Wade was left with the impression that this rant had been building up for a while.

"Uh...well. If I was a boss man, I’d hire you.” Wade stammered. Peter grinned at him.

“Hey, thanks, man. Um, do you wanna come in the bedroom?”

* * *

Peter’s bedroom was cheerier than his living room. The bed was a double, with a deep blue bedspread that was patterned to resembled the milky way. His walls were groaning with posters of bands Wade hadn’t heard of (yeah, Wade was definitely old) and photos of smiling people around Peter’s age. Books were toppled on a computer desk, and Peter had an impressive library of games.

Peter was elbow-deep in a cupboard with his back to Wade, but he jerked his head in the direction of the bed. “Take the bed cover off. I laid a beach towel on the mattress earlier. Should soak up any...um…”

“Sure, okay,” Wade muttered. He did as Peter asked and awkwardly perched on the end of the bed.

“You’re going to want to take your clothes off unless you plan to knot me through your pants.”

“Shit, sorry, never done this before.” Fuck, why did Wade’s stupid, cancer-ridden body have to fail him _now?_ He was all fingers and thumbs, fumbling with his belt buckle and his shoelaces. It was easier getting undressed without Peter watching, but he was dreading Peter turning around and seeing him in all his scarred glory. Yes, Peter had already seen his face, but Wade didn’t think he was ready for the full effect.

Peter’s room was pleasantly cool although Wade couldn’t hear the steady drone of air-con. But he saw a rustling curtain and the open window. The breeze was a balm on his raw skin, as he sat waiting.

“Okay, I got everything. Let me just — oh!” Peter was openly staring at Wade, and the merc flinched, instinctively pulling the blue beach towel over his legs and crotch. He shouldn’t let himself get disappointed, Peter wouldn’t be the first sex worker to reject Wade. He couldn’t blame them, not really. Wade wouldn’t fuck himself. And no, masturbation doesn’t count. Masturbation’s awesome.

“Yeah, sorry, you got a front-row ticket to the freak show! I can go, if you want, it’s not an issue.”

“Uh, no,” Peter said and he was shaking his head. “I wasn’t expecting, I mean, you’re...dude, you’re _shredded._ ”

Oh. That didn’t sound like a definite rejection. Wade peered up at him as Peter drew closer. “I get chased by baddies. Like a lot _._ ”

Peter chuckled at the joke, his wide brown eyes roaming up and down Wade’s chest. Wade resisted the urge to fold his arms, knowing Peter would see much more than that before their time was up. “Whatever you’ve been doing, it’s working. Props to you.”

“You like strong guys?”

“I like guys who respect their bodies.” Peter had picked up a brown bag. It was a messenger bag like students use, and he was delving through it. Faint metallic clinking could be heard from the depths of it. “Here we go. Scooch down, until your back is against the headboard and we’ll get started.”

“Al—already? Are you in heat?”

“Almost. Can’t you smell it?”

“Yeah but...you’re acting so calm. You’re not bugging out or begging me or anything.”

“I’m a rational guy. And not even my heat is going to take that from me. Now, scooch back. Oh, by the way, what did you say your name was?”

“Wade. And you’re Peter, right? Peter The Dealer?”

“That’s me!” Peter smiled, and he upended the bag on the bed by Wade’s legs.

A clattering jumble of handcuffs, gags and assorted restraints tumbled onto the mattress.

“Hell’s bells,” Wade said faintly.


	2. Chapter 2

Wade eyed the muddled mess of kink equipment with some trepidation. “I feel like I’m getting more than I paid for!”

Peter picked up a pair of handcuffs and hunted around for the key. As he overturned gags and strips of leather, he chattered on. “Yeah, I know it seems like a lot, but it’s necessary. I need to have a way to restrain alphas so they don’t act out, during the heat. Oh, I’m not worried about them hurting me, or anything like that, but all they need to do is bite my neck and we’ve got an unwanted bond. I’ve read enough articles about breaking a bond to know what a disaster it can be.”

“Even so, this seems like a lot.”

“Uh-huh. Alphas haaate it. That’s why I don’t charge much for the heat. An omega could charge hundreds and hundreds for a heat, but it’s not many alphas who would be willing to wear this.”

He dangled a ball gag from his fingers. The straps were black leather and the ball was rubber, neon pink.

“Really? I’d pay more for shit like that.”

Peter snorted. “Hmm. Well, you are  _ not _ the typical alpha.”

“So they keep telling me.”

They wavered, there. Just looked at each other, neither knowing what to say. Wade wasn’t sure what he could say or if he was even expected to say anything. But Peter honestly looked like Wade had thrown him for a loop. It might have been the first time since meeting him that the omega hadn’t fired back with a sassy retort!

Peter cleared his throat. “Okay, I’m feeling a bit more… It’s close. I need to get ready.”

* * *

Peter picked up an item, something buried under the jumble of kink paraphernalia. It was a metal gauntlet, kind of like what you’d wear on your wrist but too wide. He snapped open the hinged clasps and brought it up to his neck. Each side slotted around his neck, and he fastened it in place. He took a few experimental breaths in and out, and then, satisfied, left it on as he cleared the junk from the bed.

Wade had never seen anything like it before.

“What’s this medieval shit?”

“It’s called a bond-guard. It’s so you can’t accidentally bond-bite me. It was either that or I make you wear a muzzle.”

“I would have been cool with a muzzle!” Wade protested. Peter grinned.

“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t have been able to kiss me,” he said and booped Wade’s nose with the tip of his finger.

“Fair point.”

Wade was calm and obedient as Peter restrained him. He let him lie back against a mound of pillows and handcuffed his hands to the bed railings. 

”I really hope you’re not a serial killer,” Wade remarked and was gratified to hear Peter laugh.

He was lying down, staring up at the off-white, popcorn ceiling, feeling the slim fingers manipulate the cuffs. Once they were locked shut, Wade tested them, but they held firm. He could probably break out of them if he tried hard (he’d deliberately broken his fingers to escape cuffs in previous Deadpool situations) but he had no intention of escaping. Everything he needed was right here.

“I’m really more of a serial  _ thriller. _ Heat dealer, remember?” Peter fluffed up a couple of pillows and slid them under Wade’s head. Aww.

“Okay, then, what are you waiting for? _ Thrill  _ me.”

* * *

Although his wrists were bound, he still couldn’t help a foolish attempt at leaning forward. Oh God, oh God, Peter was undressing! The omega had stood by the bed and shot Wade a shy smile, before shrugging out of his t-shirt. Wade’s breath left him in a quick gasp. Holy shit, he was perfect. Smooth, pale skin, as pure and untouched as freshly-fallen snow. He wanted to touch it, wanted it so badly. Lick it and bite it and leave his mark on it. Put two hot hands on it, hands that flexed in their bonds and felt like they were  _ burning. _

“You look like you want to eat me,” Peter giggled, shimmying out of his jeans. Or trying to. They didn’t seem to want to be parted from his body.

“I kind of do…” Wade said. He cleared his throat. “Do you need help getting outta those jeans? They look pretty tight.”

“They’re getting tighter the longer I look at you,” Peter remarked, which was sweet of him to say but was probably not true. “Besides, they’re coming off easy. I’m… I’m really wet. I think it helps.”

Wade leant forward, feeling the ache in his wrist bones. Totally worth it. He shamelessly took in a big inhalation, nostrils flaring, seeking out the sweet omega scent. Peter wasn’t kidding, he practically reeked of omega arousal. Cloying, thick fumes of sweetness, filling the room, clouding Wade’s nostrils, filling him with desire. That was the smell of an omega who would be going crazy with need, writhing on the floor and arching their back. But Peter was remarkably calm. His cheeks and ears were tinged pink with the most adorable blush Wade had ever seen, and as he hooked his thumbs into his boxer shorts, Wade could see that he was hard.

Oh.

Wade gestured down at himself, or tried to. Couldn’t manage more than a flick of the wrist and a rattle of his cuffs. “This…does it for you? You don’t mind all the…you know…?”

Peter’s boxers puddled around his ankles and Wade forgot his own question. All the flawless skin, that pink, flushed cock, nestled in brow curls. His slim, lightly-muscled legs. He was an angel. Or an incubus, maybe. Something too perfect to exist, something that only existed to drive men like Wade mad.

He realised Peter was still speaking so tried to tune back in.  _ Apologies to the viewers, our Wade is temporarily offline— _

“—and you’re strong, but you’re not pushy, you’re actually very respectful and you’re…you’re  _ big. _ I like that.”

“Oh, thanks,” Wade said sheepishly, belatedly realising he’d zoned out on Peter praising him.

Peter drew closer, looking a little shy, and clambered onto the bed. The  _ aroused omega _ smell was much stronger now, it filled the air and settled in Wade’s head, making him feel hot and muzzy.

He grinned, probably goofily. “Pretty omega,” he said.

“Pretty alpha,” Peter said, leaning in.

* * *

Pretty omega. Pretty lips. Big eyes. Nice, sweet, honey omega. Wade chased those big, pink lips, followed them with his tongue. Any air that he took in, was omega air. Omega-infused. Thick, warm, foggy air that was sweet to the taste. He could drink it in, coat his throat with it like a frothy milkshake. Sweet, strawberry omega. Why was it so hard to think? It wasn’t like this with other omegas.

He tried to speak but his tongue felt too big for his mouth. Peter was gently kissing Wade’s jaw, sweet, close-lipped pecks that felt like drops of summer rain. Hadn’t been smooched like that in years.

“Gonna be so good for me, aren’t you?” Peter mumbled and his voice was a heat-drunk slur. Those lips found Wade’s, whoops, silly and slippy and sliding all over him.

Wade kissed back, as much as he could. A lapful of happy omega, excitably writhing all over him, cold at the throat (damn bond-guard) but burning hot everywhere else.

He was aware of sticky wetness on his thighs, Peter’s natural lubrication dripping all over them. Wade groaned against Peter’s lips. He was dying, his cock was aching, his hips kept bucking up uselessly, needing…something.

Peter grinned giddily as if he knew what effect his scent was having. Wade was pleased to see those ridiculous lips were even pinker now, swollen from Wade’s kisses. Peter looked at him with dilated eyes, glazed in the heat. “Need to…need…”

And then Peter was pushing on Wade’s chest, pushing  _ hard, _ ow, so he was forced to lie back against the headboard. And then Peter, wonderful crazy Peter, was rising to his knees and crawling onto Wade’s lap, his movements sluggish and drunken in the heat.

“Gonna fill you up, baby, gonna give you what you need…” Wade babbled, as slim, elegant fingers curled around Wade’s cock. He tried not to thrust, but it was difficult. Peter rolled an alpha condom on him with confidence, and then rose to his knees and…

…lowered himself onto Wade’s cock.

Wade groaned, low in his throat. That velvety tightness, pulling at his cock. Exquisite pressure, Peter’s muscles clenching around him. The sweet glide of those wet walls, hugging his dick. He pushed up, snapped his hips, wanted to get deep, go so far in that Peter would feel him everywhere. More than that. He wanted to crawl inside, inhabit every fibre of Peter’s being. But Peter was strong and they were going at his pace, not Wade’s.

Peter laughed breathlessly, gripping Wade’s shoulders. He was a sight to behold, strong and beautiful, with his sweaty bangs falling in his eyes. The muscles in his thighs jumped when he brought himself up and down on Wade’s cock.

Wade reached for him, but the cuffs got in the way. Some buried alpha instinct reared its head, flashing  _ panic get out  _ in his brain. Peter wrapped his hands around each of Wade’s wrists, rubbed them reassuringly.

With a death grip on each of Wade’s cuffs, Peter rode him hard, hard enough that it had to hurt, fuck, it even hurt Wade, that force, the raw strength, Peter’s thighs straining as he fucked him, felt like he was pulling the life out of Wade. He swore he’d never been so hard, never ached like this, and that pretty white throat was glowing in his misted vision like a nightlight and he wanted to bite, sink his teeth into the gland but when he gnawed at it, his teeth met cold metal and he whined in frustration. But the pretty omega was so good and tight and hot and slippery and he was taking so much and he wanted more and Wade could the building pleasure in his cock, and a final, jerking, thrust. He came hard, arching off the mattress, the cuffs digging in as he jackknifed up. His knot swelled, and Peter sank down on it, as it locked their bodies together. Wade was vaguely aware of the omega’s hand between both their legs and then Peter gasped and Wade felt hot wetness on his stomach.

He cracked open his eyelids and there Peter was. Spent and sated, with heavy-lidded eyes and a wry smile. Some of the fog had lifted, he looked a little less dazed.

“I’m sticky,” Peter complained and Wade laughed. Way to kill the mood.

“Me too…”

“I’ve got wet wipes, just let me—”

“Nah, stay here. We can’t move until my knot goes, anyway…”

So Peter shrugged and snuggled down as best he could. His bond-guard clattered as he threw it to the floor.

* * *

One hour and one shower later, Wade was dressed and ready to slink off. Peter was showering and singing off-key. It charmed him, but he figured it would be smart to slip off now, so that they were both spared the awkward goodbyes. What do you say to a guy who you paid for sex? At least, Wade had paid upfront.

He had made it to Peter’s front door when Peter returned, now dressed in a fresh tee and jeans.

“You’re going already?” Peter asked him, a faint frown creasing his brow.

Wade attempted a winning grin. “Uh, yeah, didn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Peter’s mouth twisted into that disapproving slant that was quickly becoming familiar. “You weren’t going to say goodbye?”

“I didn’t, I don’t…I don’t want to make things awkward.”

“Okay. Well. You should go, then.”

“Okay,” Wade said and yup, there it was, the awkward goodbye that he’d tried to avoid. He turned, exited, the bang of the door feeling very final. Walked along that weird, rubbery linoleum and outside into the cool air. With one hand on the outer door, holding it open.

He’d done what he set out to do. It had been a nice night. Peter was…Peter was nice. And friendly. And bold. And far too gorgeous for his own good. And he’d been good to Wade. He’d complimented him, he’d admired his body. Wade sighed, put one hand in his jacket pocket, fumbling for his phone. He should call for a taxi. His fingers found crisp paper instead.

$100.

One of the bills he’d given Peter earlier that night.

Written on it in spidery black handwriting were the words:

_ You paid me so it’s only fair I pay you. Call me sometime? Peter _

And underneath was a phone number.

Wade smiled.


End file.
